


It Hurts to Become

by GwenTheTribble



Series: As Morning Shows the Day [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Cisswap, Feminist Themes, Non-Graphic Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pedophilia, Red Room, Women Being Awesome, and i know most of them consider it just a normal part of being a girl, and its that thing of just going through puberty and having men looking at you, grown ass men, its technicaly pedophilia but it something that like every single cis girl i know goes through, teenage girls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 01:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4460504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwenTheTribble/pseuds/GwenTheTribble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first person who called me a bitch<br/>was my mother.  I was seven years old<br/>and I'd broken something. The word<br/>unfolded itself from her mouth, an easy knife.<br/>Like she'd learned it young.<br/>Like she knew what I'd become.<br/>-Meaghan Ford</p><p>A short look into Natasha, growing up in a hard world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Hurts to Become

They are training. Once there were thirty of them, but now, all of them nearing the time when they would bleed different than the other ways they have bled, there are only eleven. The other girls weren’t good enough to be the Black Widow. It’s going to be Natalia. She’s sure of it. The Winter Soldier has been observing her.

                But today she is twelve, she thinks. In her missions she has been playing girls of about that age, though lately they have been having her play older girls. This is most likely because of the way her hips are widening and her chest is swelling, her new breasts having the appearance of someone having tugged on them until they were puffy. This was not happening to the other girls, their bodies remained as trim and lean as the instructors demanded. Natalia stands out from the other girls, not able to blend in when all they have on are their work uniforms. They are always working.

                The instructor stood in front of their even line. “You are moving onto the next level of training, except for two of you. Natalia. Katya. You scored highest.” The girls nod. Excellence is to be expected, not celebrated. “Polina and Tatiana scored lowest.” Natalia and Katya nod again. Katya, with the darkest hair Natalia has ever seen and almond eyes, takes Tatiana. They never liked each other. Tatiana is too weak to make the hard kills. The soft motherly women who run to help the girls in their faked distress, the children they lead away from playgrounds, the girls who stand at their same heights, the politician’s daughters who they befriend.

                Tatiana may have been too weak to make the hard kills, but that did not mean she was too kind to do it. Katya snapped the girl’s neck and Tatiana didn’t try to fight it.   The instructor and the rest of the girls, most of whom will die in the next several years by Natalia’s own hand, turned to where Natalia and Polina were looking at each other. Polina looked like she wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go.

                Before they sent the girls out on kill missions, they brought them animals to practice on. Only one girl refused. Svetlana always had been stupid. They had given Natalia a dog, some sort of terroir. She had been nine, she thought. No kills. The dog had snarled at her, done anything it could, launched its razor teeth at her. But Natalia had been too fast for it.

                She would be too fast for Polina as well. Polina, who had slept in the bed next to Natalia for as long as either of them could remember and had never not once, won a match with her, tried to run. Natalia, the fastest girl, the deadliest girl, pounced. When she twisted the girl’s neck, she pulled her hair out of her bun. When Natalia goes back to join the line, she does not look back. If she had, she would have seen Polina, her blonde hair tumbling, looking like she did every morning when Natalia opened her eyes.

                The instructor continues. The bodies would be disposed of later. “You will be given different rations. They are to make you grow. The Red Room no longer requires little girls. We need women. The rations will create the results we desire.” He said desire like he was requesting a steak cooked to perfection, and Natalia could feel eyes on her swollen chest.

                Natalia held her head the way she always held it. She was now ahead. She was giving them what they wanted before they even had to ask.

                And if the men were looking… Fine. It is not as though her education has not been thorough. She will never blush. Natalia hasn’t bled yet, but her chest is pinched. She thinks she’s twelve, and she’s got five kills under her belt. If the men want to look, fine. That just means she’s alive to be looked at.

**Author's Note:**

> The summary is from Meaghan Ford's wonderful poem, Bitch, and i also got the name of this series from that poem. The title is of course from Andrea Gibson's I Sing the Body Electric.


End file.
